


Lyrics of our Lives

by Glass_O_Lemonade



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Inspired by Music, Inspired by a Paramore Song, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fill, Sibling Bonding, Total Chapter Count Will Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_O_Lemonade/pseuds/Glass_O_Lemonade
Summary: A collection of one-shots inspired by Paramore songs. Tags vary chapter to chapter, and are included in each chapter's AN. Prompts received from several platforms. [Accepting requests.]Presently featuring: karaoke, klave, angst, dark!Klaus...Future one-shots (likely) to include: brothers being jerks, hurt-comfort, Five drinking coffee...
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	1. Ben & 44

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all lyrics used in this collection are from Paramore.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ManyNerdThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyNerdThings/profile).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ben & #44 - "Still Into You"  
> Tag(s): Sibling Bonding  
> Setting: After Season 1

“Can’t count the years on one hand that we’ve been together~”

He’s lost count how many songs they’ve gone through. A quick sweep of the room confirms he and Diego are the only two left sober.

Klaus’ singing voice has much to be desired, especially while drunk, but Ben has to give his brother credit for his sheer commitment to each performance.

Luther passed out five or so songs ago. He’s in the corner opposite Ben, head resting on the back of the couch. Five sits beside him, a rare smile pulling at his lips. They had to arrive as five, living adults for their reservation, but once they received their karaoke room for the evening, Five joined them. Ben thinks this may be one of the most relaxed he’s seen Five in a while.

Next to Five sits Diego. Wing sauce covers his fingers and coats his mouth. Ben wishes he had a camera to capture the sight. Sober Klaus would have a field day. Diego, fist full of garlic parmesan fries, lets out a whoop in support as Allison stands to join Klaus on the tiny stage at the front of the room. Klaus excitedly hands her the other microphone.

“I should be over all the butterflies~”

Vanya hums beside him, a bottle of something sweet and fruity in her hand. Her hair has a slight lift to it. Now and then, her skin shines a pale white.

He’s not corporal at the moment, but he doesn’t mind. Excluding that one time during the second hour when Luther stumbled (after one too many twirls) and nearly fell through him, each of his siblings have left a space for him tonight, whether on the couch now or in the SUV they drove over. And that? Just them thinking of him? That does more for his still, unbeating heart than he knows how to tell them.

“And baby even on our worst nights~”

Ben shifts his gaze forward, back to the entertainment. Klaus and Allison, both having kicked off their respective heels earlier in the evening, goofily dance around the stage. Allison bumps into Klaus a little too hard on one of their passes and the two nearly trip over themselves and off the few inches high platform. Vanya snorts at the sight. Ben chuckles, carefree and _happy_. Klaus hears him, even the stupor of alcohol unable to break their unexplainable, morbid bond. Ben watches, amused, as Klaus jabs at Allison, waves an arm Ben’s direction.

Vanya glances towards him, her eyes lightening to a familiar, lively white. Ben’s attention is completely focused on Vanya right then that he misses how Klaus’ hands begin to glow blue.

Vanya sends out a soft pulse of energy, and then channels her power out as a playful wind. His hair lightly lifts, as does everyone else’s.

“Some things just, some things just make sense and even after all this time,” Klaus and Allison sing together. Ben jolts a little in the couch, notices how he can feel the cool of the material under his palms. Klaus and Allison stand right before him now, eyes and smiles directed on him. The song goes into its last chorus and to his surprise Five and Diego join in. Five’s words come out a hint slower than normal and Diego has food shoved in the side of his mouth as he sings, but Ben doesn’t care about either of those things.

“I’m into you, I’m into you~”

Ben’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. They’re serenading him. His family’s serenading him. If someone had asked Ben whether he thought he’d have this again, time with his family, his siblings, his best friends, he would have accused them of being high (like someone else he knows.) But no. This is real. This is his new here and now. He may be dead, his family may still have their less than great days, their more dysfunctional moments, but right now? None of that matters.

“I’m still into you~”

Ben ends up laughing to the point of tears, a smile so wide it starts to hurt. But that slight pain? 100% worth it.


	2. Klaus x Dave & 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [Warmhandscoldheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warmhandscoldheart/pseuds/Warmhandscoldheart/works).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Klaus x Dave #34 - "All I Wanted"  
> Tag(s): Angst  
> Setting: After Season 1

The tub’s cool porcelain sends jolts through him as he settles inside. Hot water pours from the faucet, creates a familiar, comforting roar in his ears. The cold along his skin, within his bones, quickly dissipates in the presence of the heat. His toes turn pink, then bright red. He’s sure most of him will be redder to a degree afterwards, but no one’s there at the moment to scold him for the scalding temperature, so he leaves it as is.

Klaus sinks down to meet the rising water. He rests his neck over the tub’s edge, absently stares at the ceiling above.

When the water starts to slosh up under his armpits, he pushes himself up and forward to turn the faucet off.

A relaxed sigh leaves his lips as he drifts _back,_ _back, back, back, back…_ He thinks he may have momentarily fallen asleep, lulled by the bath.

“Room for one more?”

“Hmm,” he hums, considers. “Depends.”

“On?” Klaus hears the smile in his love’s voice.

“Well, this water’s not for the sensitive sort,” Klaus responds, blinks his heavy eyes open. “As you see it is quite _hot_.”

“Are you now.” Klaus doesn’t correct him.

He pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around his knees. Dave’s clothes are already lying on the floor beside Klaus’ towel. Dave steps into the bath, doesn’t even hiss as the water burns his feet and legs and bum. The water stills as Dave mirrors Klaus’ posture.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Klaus’ head feels light, lighter than it’s been in a while. May be a side effect of the heat. May be a result of the Excedrin he took twenty or so minutes ago for his headache.

Dave slides his feet forwards, gently rests his toes atop Klaus’ own. He’s reminded of all of those nights, those never ending nights, back in the tents in Vietnam. Their cots side by side, not even the physical, regulatory distance of their beds enough to hamper their stolen gazes in the dark. God, Klaus wishes he stole more moments like that then. If he could, he would… _he would_ … well, doesn’t matter much does it. Not now.

“I’ve missed you.”

Klaus’ heart flutters at that, the same light, jittery beat of wings it did during their week in Saigon. The same incomprehensible happiness floods through him, makes him curve his toes up in response, not knowing how else to let it all _out_. Dave lifts his feet up, rests his heels on the tub’s bottom.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Klaus doesn’t know why his voice breaks as he says that. Doesn’t know when the tears began to slowly roll down his face. He hopes his mascara's not running. The tube did say it was waterproof.

Dave gently smiles at him, leans his head forward to meet Klaus’ own. Like magnets, they draw together, unable to be apart when in such close proximity. Klaus shuts his eyes, melts further into the water, into this moment. He parts his lips the briefest of parts, and fights the full body tremble that rushes him as Dave’s lips meet his.

Dave’s lips are closed when they meet Klaus’, but then the soft kiss grows in desire. Klaus opens his mouth wider, feels as Dave does, too. For the briefest of seconds, Klaus breathes life into Dave. Then Klaus is choking. Dave’s lips are on him, but it’s as if someone’s turned on a water hose. Water pours into Klaus' mouth, down his unsuspecting throat. He’s choking. He’s choking. He’s drowning. He’s drowning. No. That’s not right. None of this is right. He’s kissing Dave. Dave. He’s kissing Dave. Where- where did Dave go? Where- why- His nose burns, his lungs seize, his heart pounds inside his chest, inside his ears, inside his head.

Klaus is choking on Dave’s kiss, _down, down, down, down, down he sinks._

“Klaus!”

Solid, familiar, alive hands grip his shoulders and pull him up and out of the bathwater. Klaus splutters, gasps for air, sweet, life-giving air. His nostrils burn, his ears feel plugged. Ben’s voice blends with Diego’s own. At the moment, Klaus can’t register either’s concerned words.

He stares at the tile, hacks until his chest feels clear, until his breathing feels less labored. There’s still water in his ears.

But Dave is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this:  
> Ben to Klaus: Please stop falling asleep in bathtubs.


	3. Ben & 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [evelinaonline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelinaonline/pseuds/evelinaonline/works).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ben & #22 - "Decoy"  
> Tag(s): Angst  
> Setting: Canon-Divergent Scene from Season 1, Ep. 9 "Changes"

There’s nothing he can do.

She sits there, collapsed within herself. Her chest heaves; she gasps for breath between the sobs that rack her entire body.

There’s nothing he can do.

There’s blood on her bow. _Allison’s blood._ Her arms tighten their hold around her. Her petite frame and curled posture makes her appear smaller before him.

There’s nothing he can do.

Phantoms of the last week materialize and dematerialize at the edges of his vision. Materialize and dematerialize. They’re fragments, not wholly formed ghosts possessing consciousness, nor spirits trapped in the haze of their lived suffering. He thinks he recognizes one of them, as the feeling of familiarity crawls up the back of his neck. His face. He’s seen his face. At least once.

A tragic, mournful wail leaves his sister’s lips. It ices his heart, pierces it, all at once. In this moment, he knows of her grief, her regret, her pain, her suffering. He knows. He knows. He knows.

And yet.

There’s nothing he can do.

He can tell her she is not alone. He can tell her she is forgiven, that Allison is alive. He can tell her he loves her. That Klaus loves her. That Five and Diego care. That they’re looking for her. Her family’s looking for her. He can tell her all of this and more.

But she will not hear.

He can wrap his arms around her, offer his shoulder, his chest for her to rest her head on, to bury her face and weep. He can offer his hoodie, slip out from it and place it on her, wrap her in warmth and comfort. He can offer his hand, a simple touch to ground her from her overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

But she will not feel it.

He is an onlooker. As he was in life, so he is in death. Unable to take control of his environment. Unable to be the brother, the support, the friend, his family needed, needs, deserves.

Time, a distant, irrelevant concept to him now, passes.

Vanya’s sobs subside. Vanya’s shaking eventually stills. Vanya’s tears slowly cease falling.

He stands, watches as she lifts her head, uncurls from her tight position, only to sink into her couch further. He stands, sees the physical manifestation of the weight of everything, the toll it takes on her.

Jenkins. No Peabody. No, wait. He’s both men.

He wonders if Vanya did it. He knows she did. He wonders all the same. He is not surprised, nor unsettled by the fact he feels nothing towards the act.

After all, he has no position, no authority, no right to judge her actions. He is a pot. She is a kettle.

Vanya moves lethargically from her couch to her bathroom.

He stands in the same spot he arrived.

A sink runs. A toilet flushes. The sound of a faucet again.

He should go back. Back to Klaus. To the academy.

He doesn’t.

He stands. A ghost in his sister’s apartment. A ghost in his sister’s life.

There is nothing he can do.


	4. Klaus & 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [totallyevan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyevan/pseuds/totallyevan/works).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Klaus & #25 - "Ignorance"  
> Tag(s): dark!Klaus, death  
> Setting: Pre-Season 1, AU

He’s twenty-one, on the edge of twenty-two, when he dies. Ben, after prodding, recounts the graphic ordeal to him later. His brother, despite still recovering from the grief and shock of it all, leaves nothing out. However for Klaus, the entire grim, bloody process of his unforeseen death and following resurrection seem to have left his memory altogether upon his first, post-mortem gasp for breath. In the scheme of things, it initially seems to be only a minor loss of memory. Neither of them know of the ugliness that returns with Klaus, the dark hitchhiking side effects from his “trip.” That is, until it is too late.

There is no gentleness attached to his passing nor his resurrection. In his brother’s words, “ _They effing murdered you, Klaus_.” Over the years, a few folks, those older and wiser, had warned him that his last name wouldn’t be much help for him on the streets. No one ever said it’d be his downfall.

Aside from the usual inconveniences that follow when one suddenly wakes in a morgue after two days dead, Klaus returns to the land of the living with a throbbing headache, no money, and no one waiting on him. The headache is an aggravating nuisance, but he knows a few remedies that’ll solve that right up. Unfortunately, every option he thinks of requires money. Money: the one thing he didn’t have much of to start with before his death, and now afterwards, he doesn’t even possess that laughable amount. In the moment, the fact no one had yet arrived to ID nor claim his body, is a mere passing thought he accepts unquestioningly. His headache and lack of cash preoccupy his immediate attention.

The few morgue staff present at the time stare silent as he makes his exit. Ben directs him through the fastest route of escape, neither wanting to stay there long enough for someone to realize they should probably hold him for tests and questions.

It is later, secluded in the shadows of an alley, that Ben tells him everything. It is after this, that Ben asks him where he went. _“You never appeared.”_ Unfortunately, the two quickly discover Klaus’ amnesia includes the approx. forty-eight hours he was not among the living.

Falling back into their routine is effortless for the pair. Within two hours, Klaus has a wad of bills shoved into his pants and his headache is no more. An hour later finds him and Ben occupying the last stall in a bathroom, the club’s music faintly dulled by the cement walls. Ben stands to the side, usual thin frown once more across his face. Klaus sits on the dirty ground, the smell of unused toilet water a near refresher from the overwhelming combined scents of sweat, alcohol, and smoke from the club. It is there, his legs stretched out, arms loose, his hands flipped palms up, his own toe tag staring back at him, when Klaus reflects on what he never did earlier.

Two days. He was dead. He was dead and in a morgue for two days.

His toe tag reads John Doe. He was a John Doe.

No one had arrived to ID him, to claim his corpse because no one had been informed. No one even knew he had people to inform to begin with. And the people he had to inform? His (living) siblings? His father? His robot mother? His father’s chimp confidant? None of them ever even stopped to consider to check in on him the past two days.

 _They left you to rot…_ The voice is not his own, nor do the words belong to Ben, yet Klaus hears them all the same. _They left you to rot…_ His hands clench into fists, crumpling the toe tag in the process.

A shiver runs through Klaus’s body, from the back of his skull and down the length of his spine, yet, for once in his ( _your miserable existence_ , supplies the voice) life, he does not shiver from the cold that clings to him. For once… Klaus is not cold at all.

In a fluid motion, Klaus rises to his feet. He shoves the toe tag into one of his pant pockets.

He feels warm. He feels _alive_.

Klaus doesn’t mention the voice to his brother; the thought to be concerned never even enters his mind.

He’s warm. He’s alive.

Ben follows him out of the stall, a few paces back, a huff at the edge of release, but Ben refrains. He knows to do so would only be a waste of the air he no longer needs.

Klaus is twenty-one, on the edge of twenty-two, when he dies. For Klaus, the memories of his unforeseen death and following resurrection are lost to him. In the scheme of things, the only consequence of his passing seems to be this minor loss of memory. Unfortunately, neither Klaus nor Ben know of the ugliness that returns with Klaus, the dark hitchhiking side effects from his “trip.” That is, until it is too late for them to prevent its grasp on Klaus’ psyche. And grasp it does. The voice fills his senses, echoes his thoughts, whispers him truths he never knew before, truths he never verbalized before. _(Ben is late, Ben is too late to stop it, too late to help; the changes in his brother minute and easy to explain away… far too easy to explain away.)_

Fifty hours after his resurrection, Klaus is no longer even remotely surprised to hear his new friend’s words.

_They left you to rot…_

Five days after his resurrection, Klaus can no longer recall what life was like without his new friend there with him.

_They left you to rot…_

Three weeks after his resurrection, Klaus can no longer identify whose words are whose, whose thoughts are whose, whose _actions_ are whose.

_Why not…_

Three weeks and a day after his resurrection, none of that crap matters. None of it. Klaus is warm and alive and free of the bullshit. Klaus is free of all of the bullshit that dragged him down for twenty two long years.

_…leave them to rot?_

It is a week before Christmas, when Klaus and Ben cross paths with Diego. The encounter is pure happenstance. The brothers meet in an alley, no less. Bruises paint Klaus’ bare arms. He grins at his living brother’s expression, concern and anger warring within Diego, clawing to be expressed first. Klaus grins, his eyes take on a gleam in the dark. He flicks his tongue, runs it across his top teeth, lingers a second or two longer on his canines.

_“Klaus, what the hell happened to you?”_

_“You should see the other guy.”_

_“Klaus, who-”_

_“No, no, no, Two,”_ Klaus shakes his head; his grin, if possible, seems to lengthen. _“No more questions tonight.”_

_“Klaus, stop playing around. What guy? You’re covered in bruises and- is that blood?”_

Huh. He forgot he wasn’t wearing nail polish anymore. Why pay for ‘Ruby Blud,’ when you can have the real thing.

Diego steps closer, crowds his space, blocks his exit of choice.

His eyes narrow.

_“Klaus-”_

He moves too fast, far too fast for Diego to dodge, to respond in time. Ben stands, helpless to the scene before him. _~~He dreaded when this moment would come.~~_

Klaus glances down, checks his work. Despite the limited light, he can make out the sight of blood where he drove his blade into his brother’s side.

 _“Klaus- why-”_ Diego’s in shock. He stares at his wound, at the blade, at his own brother’s hand still firmly wrapped around the handle. He looks up, his legs suddenly unable to hold him up. Klaus meets his eyes. His brother _smiles_ as he twists the blade. Diego falls forward into his brother, his head hangs over Klaus’ left shoulder.

Klaus lowers his own head to whisper into Diego’s ear.

_“Klaus Hargreeves died four months ago.”_

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to send in a request, please leave a comment below with a character (or characters) and a random number between 1 and 69. If you send in a number I've already filled or am filling, please know I may ask you for a different request. I'll close prompts either when I reach 69 or life declares it is time to take a break. ~Lem


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